To Quote Old School Saturday Night Live...

"Who are the ad geniuses that came up with this one?" As I am presently home on maternity leave, I've had the chance to watch a hell of a lot of live TV (in general, Tifaux is my friend, helping me avoid all those pesky commercials). Putting aside my poor choices in programming for a moment, there is a car commercial that is just sooo awful, I literally sit there, agape each time it comes on. I'd have loved to be a fly on the wall for the pitch meetings wherein this groundbreaking idea was sold. The commercial involves a husband kissing his wife goodbye as he goes off for work...and then parachuting off the side of the cliff, atop which they apparently live. The world's most irritating generic "rock" song plays, as he goes hurtling down, in his suit and tie, mind you, to the bottom of the cliff where....his car is parked. I suppose this is all in the name of showing us how cool and "off road" said vehicle is, but really... The hell?! How does Parachute Guy get UP the cliff when he comes home? Does he rappel? Is there some intricate system of ropes and pulleys that his wife manages? What is the point of it all? Why is their house up there? Surely there must be some access road; the house itself couldn't have fallen from the sky? The whole thing is just so irksome, and makes me ask too many questions, none of which are "Who makes this wonderful car? Where can I buy it?" Blecchhhhh.

Possessed Toilet

I suppose that now I've gotten the initial intro out of the way, I can share a more intimate story. On a recent morning, I woke up to the dulcet tones of my shrieky mega-decibel alarm clock. I lay back, stretched, and listened to the morning sounds…the birds chirping, the garbage truck rumbling by, the humidifier in our bedroom…no wait, that's louder than the humidifier. That's actually the sound of running water. A lot of it. Awesome... I leapt from my bed, prepared to discover the source of the sound. But then I panicked; what if a crazed killer-hobo had broken into our apartment, and was currently taking a bath? (Note: I really thought this.) So, I did the only logical thing. Woke up J, grabbed a pen (um...to defend ourselves? or something? I dont know, it was early...) , and together, we made our way into the hallway. Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy #1 cleverly deduced that the sound was coming from the bathroom (just as I'd suspected!Killer-hobo bath!); specifically, we noticed that it was coming from the toilet…Which was flushing as if someone was holding down the flusher/handle (technical term)...but no one was in there (which, I guess, in retrospect, was a good thing). The toilet was roaring, just wildly flushing as if there was no tomorrow. AND IT WOULDN'T STOP. It just kept on going. And going. It was, in effect, a possessed toilet. We called the super at 7, who apparently recoiled in horror, and said that he'd never seen anything like that in all his years of, um, super-ing, and the only thing he could think of to do was to turn off the water to the entire building. So, I'm sure there were many happy people in my building that morning. We've since moved (unrelated to this incident), but I'm still puzzled by the mystery of the possessed toilet...

Testing...

So, like much of the world, I've decided that I need a blog, too. By way of introduction, I'm 25, and a married mother of one. The name of the site is simply my middle name, and not a tribute to Metallica, the metalworking industry, or heavy metal in general. (In case you can't tell, I've fielded those questions before.) Sorry for any disappointment there. Wish me luck, and let's see how this goes...